Robert Bradley was a blind busking blues-shouter in Detroit until alterna-rock kids Michael and Andrew Nehra turned on to him -- they allegedly had a "spiritual experience" while hearing his wail outside their recording studio -- as well they should have. With a voice of unchecked instinct and improvised songs of unapologetic faith -- in God, in sex, in all manner of human communion -- Bradley mows down the irony, cynicism, self-absorption and technical calculation that make our current musical landscape so cramped and trivial. He growls like Van Morrison, moans like Wilson Pickett and hollers like Ted Hawkins. And, amazingly enough, the Nehras (who had been making garage-pop with Second Self) have known just how to handle the passion. With a singer this forceful, there's only one thing to do: Get down, give in and see where the groove takes... More >>>